


Sweet Park

by CrossoverQueen



Category: South Park, Sweet Home (Manhwa), 스위트홈 | Sweet Home (TV)
Genre: Antisemitism, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Drug Withdrawal, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Infertility, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Polyamory, Racism, Self-Harm, Sexism, Statutory Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossoverQueen/pseuds/CrossoverQueen
Summary: Every kid in South Park has one goal: get the hell out of South Park. And when Stan finds a way to escape, he takes everyone along for the ride. But moving all your friends to a boarding house in the middle of nowhere was maybe not his smartest idea. Especially since people are turning into monsters, and not the kind he and his friends are used to.South Park/Sweet Home AU. Characters and pairings to be updated.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Token Black/Nichole Daniels
Kudos: 5





	1. Stan's POV

We all wanted to get the hell out of South Park. Even those of us who said we didn’t—even those of us who didn’t actually live there, but had been unlucky enough to get sucked in. Because the moment you saw your first alien, or spoke to your first piece of talking shit, or, fuck, had your first hit of my dad's weed with Towelie, there was no going back to normal. And normal was something we all needed. Something we'd never had. 

As soon as I turned 18, Wendy and me started looking. We found a place a few miles away: a boardinghouse six stories tall, on a street in the middle of nowhere called Sweet Park. The name was kind of close to South Park, but different enough to not make me nauseous. More importantly, it was affordable. And Wendy was already in love with it.

"Can you imagine it, Stan?" she'd asked. "Us living here. _All_ of us. Just finally being... ok." And in that moment, as I watched her daydream about our future, I could finally see it, too.

I sent Kyle a photo, and after some arguing, he called Kenny, and Kenny called Butters. From there, the chain continued. Soon, most of us were in on it. But we didn’t tell Cartman, at first. I didn't want him there myself, and Kyle was already not 100% on board. I refused to give him more reason to be against the idea, especially since I got why he was hesitating; we'd be making a huge change, cutting out our pasts to have some shot at a future. But it was a change we needed to make.

Still, Kyle wasn't the only one who needed convincing. Craig said it was a lame idea, that we couldn’t outrun South Park if we lived with other people who were running away from the same things. That was a problem, because Token listened to him, and Token’s money was our best chance at making this possible. But Wendy convinced Nichole, and she convinced Token, and soon, I was packing my bags and getting in Wendy’s car. I'm still not 100% sure what Wendy said to get Nichole so invested, but we had our funding, so did the rest really matter?

I left Tegridy for good on a sunny Tuesday morning. My dad told me to never come back; I told him I didn’t plan to. If a single person could represent South Park, it would have to be my dad. Saying goodbye to him felt like a promise. It felt like, relief. 

I did feel bad about my mom, though. She couldn’t just walk out of her marriage and come with me. But... was that really true? I mean, she’d tried before. They’d separated, and she could do it again, couldn’t she? But ever since I was a kid, she just kept going back to him. And if she wasn’t willing to leave, if she kept choosing him over herself, there wasn’t much I could do to help her.

That's what I keep telling myself.

As for Shelley… I invited her to come. She said no, and that was that. My sister and I were never close. But still, I wondered why she wouldn't go with us, why anyone would choose to stay at Tegridy, stay in South Park, given another option.

A few days later, I'd come to understand. And I would come to wish I'd stayed, too

***

Wendy and I were the first to arrive at the boardinghouse, which had always been our plan. We wanted to make it homier before the others showed up, and there was a lot that needed to be done. We spent the first day walking through the building, taking notes of leaks, warped wood, broken windows. There was a reason we'd got it for cheap. But still, it was going to be totally worth it. I hoped. 

Kyle joined us later that night, pulling up in his second-hand hybrid. By then, we’d already started painting the outside, which was a weathered, ruddy brown. It was slowly becoming a greyish yellow, which was somehow even worse than the layer beneath.

“Dude, it’s a dump,” Kyle said, and I’d laughed, cause yeah, it was.

“Still better than South Park,” I replied. And even though I knew he was still uneasy, he laughed, too.

Already, I could tell he was starting to realize what I'd already known: we'd gotten out. We were finally free. His warpath mom was behind him. So were the people who would tell him his car caused smug, or who turned into scientologists and tried to kill him, or who made him into a fucking human centipad. None of that bullshit could touch us here.

At that moment, Kyle turned toward Wendy. "Hey Wendy," he greeted, though his voice came out flat. He must have been tired from the drive, or still nervous about the change.

Wendy looked up from her painting. There were flecks of yellow in her hair, and a streak on her cheek, but her expression was entirely blank as she responded, "Hi Kyle." I thought it was strange, but I guessed she was drained from painting. A simple enough explanation. I was sure Wendy was glad to have Kyle here, and Kyle was glad to be with us. After all, Wendy and Kyle had always gotten along; in that way, I was lucky, cause not everyone's girlfriend liked their super best friend.

It took a few days for the boardinghouse to start looking livable, but between Kyle’s cleaning, Wendy’s mechanical know-how, and my... optimism, I guess, we could honestly see ourselves staying here, long-term. We stepped back and admired our work: the new carpeting, the polished floors, the reupholstered couches that sat by the entrance. And as we stared, we heard a loud, sharp whistle; Kenny, as he walked through the doors.

"Wow fellas," Butters said, close behind. "You sure made--sure made it sparkle." 

Kenny and Butters were our first official tenants. They were also our first employees. I’d asked them to come ahead of everyone else because they were my friends, sure. But it was also because I knew they needed out more than most. 

Kenny would be the official handyman, fixing shit that broke and helping with cleaning. I'm not sure he had much experience with either, but he was so excited to be there, he quickly set to work breaking stuff just to figure out how to put it back together. Butters, meanwhile, worked the front desk. And that first week, he was constantly busy. So busy that me, Kyle, and Wendy had to lend a hand. We were, after all, the managers.

Despite what he’d initially said, Craig arrived a few hours after Kenny and Butters, driving up to the boardinghouse with Tweek sitting beside him. He was squeezing Tweek’s hand, which fully explained his change of heart. After Butters and Kenny, Tweek had been next on my list to contact, so far as people-who-needed-out. 

“So, we’re seriously doing this?” Craig had asked. I couldn’t tell if he was asking me or Tweek.

Tweek looked between Craig and Butters before nodding his head. “Ngh, one apartment, please."

Butters walked over to the hanging keys. "Oh god, not on the top floor," Tweek interrupted, as Butters grabbed a set with a 6. "What if there's a fire, or an alien invasion? But not on the first floor, either. Underpants gnomes." Butters nodded, fully serious, before grabbing a set with a 3.

As Tweek and Craig walked away, I wanted to point out that the gnomes couldn’t reach them here. And while fires couldn't be avoided entirely, they seemed a lot less likely to happen in anywhere-that-wasn't-South Park. But before I could call after them, or at least share my thoughts with Butters, my attention was pulled away by our next tenant, who was loudly screaming my girlfriend's name. 

I probably should have expected it would be Bebe, given how close she and Wendy are. But Bebe isn’t my favorite person, and I still don’t understand why she means so much to Wendy. They've been friends for almost two decades, yeah, but she's bossy, self-absorbed, and just...mean. I've pointed this out to Wendy before, but with Bebe, she's always had a blind spot. Kind of like the blind spot we'd had with Cartman, I guess. Until what happened recently, when he went too far.

“I’m so glad you came,” Wendy greeted, as she gave her friend a hug.

“Of course, girl,” Bebe replied. “Get out of South Park and get to live with you? Literal dream come true. Sign me the fuck up, now.”

“Oh golly, you don’t need to sign anything,” Butters said, but the girls both ignored him. I tried not to roll my eyes, but it didn't matter, because neither girl was looking at me.

“I’ll show you your room. It’s near mine and Stan’s," Wendy said, as she grabbed Bebe's hand and headed off for the second floor. As they reached the elevator, I tried not to dwell on this new information, or wonder why Wendy hadn't mentioned our newest neighbor to me. Since Kyle was our other neighbor, maybe she felt like she didn't have to. But that didn't seem totally fair, since she was friends with Kyle. With Bebe, it was totally different.

I massaged my temples, tuning out Butters' question of, "Are you ok?" I was too busy trying not to focus on the curdling in my stomach. Because we were out of South Park. And things here would be better. Because things _had_ to be better. Right? 

With a setup like this, there was bound to be drama. Most of us had grown up together, and several of us had dated, or gotten into fights, or even been on opposite superhero teams for civil war. But I could deal with drama. If it was like this. Just not… South Park drama.

 _Things here can't be worse,_ I thought, and in that, at least, I was confident. In that, there was no reason to doubt.

In that, I was utterly wrong. 

***

The rest of the day offered several more expected faces, including Clyde, Nichole, and our benefactor himself, Token, who all entered the building with smiles.

“It’ll be like a giant sleepover,” Clyde had said, as he gripped Token from behind.

“You know we’re getting separate apartments right?” Token replied, as he tried to shrug him off.

“We are?” The surprise in Clyde's voice was so genuine, I had to stop myself from laughing.

“I mean, not all of us,” Nichole said, as she grabbed Token’s hand and smiled. 

“Oh, uh, we’re not?” Token replied. The second he said it, I could tell he wanted to take it back. After seeing the look on Nichole's face, I kind of wished he could, too. "Wait, I mean--" 

Nichole dropped Token's hand and reached over the desk. At first, I wasn't sure why, but then I realized she was gesturing for a key. I grabbed one from the fifth floor and handed it over; the second she held it, she turned on her heel and headed for the elevator.

Token watched her leave, totally stunned, then opened his mouth to call after. But before he could figure out what to say, he was cut off by Clyde's loud squeal of, "Yes yes yes! Looks like we're roomies."

In half a daze, Token turned back to the front desk. Clyde was holding a set of keys marked 3, and as I went to grab Token a pair of his own, he sighed and waved his hand.

“Great…” Token said. “This is exactly what I was hoping for when I bought the building. Dreams really do come true.”

"I can get you a set of your own, dude," I said, but again, he waved his hand.

"It's cool." He shrugged, then frowned as he said, "I'll apologize and we'll just... move in together, I guess."

"Hey, don't I have a say in this?" Clyde asked. 

"Literally no." 

"But dude, you told me you didn't want to--"

"Shut _up,_ Clyde," Token said, voice quiet and strained.

"Hey, not my fault you don't want to live with your girlfriend." Clyde paused. "Why _don't_ you want to live with her, anyway?" 

In response, Token simply rolled his eyes, offered me and Butters a tired wave, and then headed down the hallway. Clyde followed after, still asking, and still receiving no answer. 

After Clyde and Token settled in, the next group to show up were the goth kids. I was... pretty surprised. It's not that we'd kept our plans a secret, exactly, but I hadn't reached out to them myself. And if there was a group I would have avoided telling, well, they'd be near the top.

One of the goth kids, the smallest ones--Firkle?--was missing. But the others crowded around the front desk, making Butters and me shrink back. We'd both had enough of them in fourth grade. How hadn't they grown out of this yet? 

“Raven,” Pete greeted, and god, did they really have to pull that shit?

“Guys, that’s not—how did you even hear about this?”

“Reaper told us," Henrietta replied.

Me and Butters looked at each other, blankly. “…Who?” I asked, as I turned back to the goths.

“I believe he calls himself Kenny,” Michael replied, as I raised a hand to my temples. 

“Fuck,” I said, closing my eyes. “Butters, Kenny knew not to tell everyone, right?”

The silence that greeted my question, followed by the stuttering, "Well..." was all the answer I needed. 

Even though I didn't really want the goths here, not with what they reminded me of, we weren't about to turn anyone out. So, Butters went ahead and set them up on the sixth floor, as far away from us as possible. It was our hope they'd just kind of stick to themselves up there. I mean, goths were all about avoiding conformists, right? But as the day dragged on, I realized we'd have to start strategizing where we put people. We'd also have to double-check we had enough rooms. 

The next unexpected guests were a few vampires kids, and remembering their issues with the goths, Butters set them up on the third floor, hoping they'd kind of just avoid each other. Soon after them arrived DogPoo and Red, which was fine, and Butters set them up on the fifth floor. A group of gingers came next, followed by a few girls who I'm pretty sure used to work at Raisins. And I figured, ok, Kenny wants as many people here as possible. I really can't fault him for that. But as the gingers and raisins were making their way to the fourth floor, the front doors opened, and I was suddenly, blazingly angry.

Gregory of Yardale waltzed into the building, looking around like he had never before seen anything so unimpressive. He had that Mole kid with him, who honestly I thought had _died_ , but they’d both been in South Park, which meant, who knows?

I purposely hid in the back office when he came in--just looking at him reminded me of the war, of our parents abandoning us, of Wendy almost leaving me--and I didn't come back until Butters had sent the duo upstairs. Even then, I was hesitant, because what if he came back? Fuck, what if he ran into Wendy?

"Don't you worry Stan," Butters told me, "I put them on the sixth floor, with those stinky goths. I bet they won't even want to stay here."

He said it confidently, but I knew both of them had been through worse than goths as floormates. I was suddenly regretting my "turn no one away" policy.

***

We got a nice reprieve from all the weird kids of South Park when Timmy and Jimmy showed up.

“Tw-two rooms on your high—high—top floor, please,” Jimmy had said.

“You sure about that dude?” I’d asked.

“You’ve got an el—elevator, right? How can Timmy and I be—be top do—do—dogs if we aren’t on the to—top floor?”

"Well, you lucked out," I said, as I reached for a key. "We have two rooms left on the sixth floor."

"Timmy!"

"Sound--sound--sounds swell," Jimmy said. 

We handed over the keys. They took the elevator. We couldn’t have known, back then. 

Throughout the week, we got a few more stragglers. Jason was a little awkward (hadn’t he died too?) and Scott Malkinson, if only because I didn’t really know them well. Heidi was even more awkward, because I _did_ know her, but didn't really know how to feel about her being here. But she was friends with Wendy, and she seemed to hate Cartman almost as much as I did, so we gave her a key to the third floor. Next, that kid with Tourette's came by--Thomas, I think--which was weird, because who was he even still in contact with? I thought the same thing when that Mormon kid I’d hung out with, Gary, stopped by an hour later. I awkwardly tried to ignore him, and he was polite enough to let me, which felt fucking impolite in context. The last person of the day to arrive was David, and that, at least, felt a bit more normal. We sent Gary to the third floor, David to the fourth, and Thomas to the fifth, and I figured that would be the last of it.

Still, the weirdest part came at the end of Day 5, when Pip and Damien showed up. 

Now, Pip I was 100% sure had died. But again, that didn’t mean anything in South Park. Sometimes, you thought someone was gone only for them to randomly appear again behind, I don't know, a Christmas tree. Still, seeing him here, after all those years—it was hella confusing. Because obviously, he _couldn't_ have died, if he was standing in front of me. And as he said hi to me in that stupid French accent, said he'd missed me and couldn't wait to be "good chums" again, I started to feel... not right. It was a feeling I got often in South Park. I tried to ignore it. I tried really hard.

But that feeling was even worse when Damien asked for a room. I had a memory of him setting someone on fire, of him telling us he was the son of Satan. Sure, he could have been some emo kid back then, just making shit up. But I remembered it feeling pretty real. And if South Park had sentient towels and Mecha-Streisands, was it really impossible that he was telling the truth? 

...And if he was telling the truth--if he really was this magical demon-kid--didn't that make him too close to South Park to stay here?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, before I could decide, Butters was handing them keys to the fifth floor. And as I watched them leave, part of me was, relieved. Because even if Damien was connected to South Park's weirdness, weren't we all, in a way? And wasn't that the whole point of coming here? To escape it, like Wendy said. Together.

As the day came to a close, I realized that almost every kid I knew was here. Really, the only kids who hadn't come—besides a few dumb ones, like my sister—were the ones who couldn’t. The ones too young to be considered adults. I knew Kyle felt bad about leaving Ike; I knew Kenny had only left so he could make money here and send it back to Karen. I was the only one who didn’t feel bad at all, and I wanted them to feel the same.

In that moment, I decided that when Ike and Karen were old enough, they could come here, too. Everyone who wanted to leave South Park was allowed. This would be a South Park free zone, a place where we could all recover. A place where, like Wendy said, we could all finally be ok. This is what I had wanted from the beginning, but it was until this moment that I realized how important it was that everyone meant _everyone._

Which is why, on day 7, when Cartman arrived, I had zero idea what to do. 

Kyle was at the front desk with me and Butters, his back facing the door. Butters' expression was the first tip that something was wrong; his face went bloodless, like one of the vamp kids had just bit him, and he looked between Kyle and the door so rapidly, it took me a second to understand what was going on. 

I turned toward the door. And then, I saw him. "Oh, fuck no," I began, completely forgetting my new resolution. "Jesus, fuck, why would Kenny--"

Catching sight of Cartman, Kyle sighed. "Kenny didn't call him," he said. And then, he added two words that didn't make any sense: "I did."

I looked between my best friend and the asshole who had hurt him. But Kyle seemed--fine. I didn't understand.

Cartman stood in the doorway. Though still heavy, the way he was standing made him seem smaller. He had a single bag, which he dragged on the ground. He didn't seem to know where to go, or even where to look.

"Hey, fatass, over here," Kyle called, and Cartman turned toward us, then slowly walked over. 

"Hey Stan, Butters," he greeted, before looking at Kyle and simply nodding. 

Kyle rolled his eyes, then walked behind the counter. He pulled out the last remaining key. It was to an apartment on floor 2. Our floor. The room beside Kyle's own.

"Wait, hold on a second," I tried to say, but Kyle rolled his eyes again before handing Cartman the key. Cartman took it, but seemed unsure, like he expected it to disappear in his hand.

"Look, Stan," Kyle said, "if anyone's going to have a problem with him being here, it's going to be me. And I'm saying that it's ok. I want it to be ok. He's part of South Park, too, you know?"

"Are--are you sure, Kyle?" Butters asked, and I was glad he'd said something, because I suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Kyle responded. And then, he turned toward Cartman, glaring. "What you did was fucked up, but you know that it was. So, maybe here, we can all be better. Get better. Ok?"

For a moment, Cartman didn't say anything. And then, voice cracking, he said, “Thanks, Kahl.”

It was the weirdest sight I had ever seen. And as someone from South Park, that means a lot.

In that moment, I was torn between disbelief, refusal, and a warm, hopeful feeling. I didn't know what to think of Kyle just forgiving him so easily, but ultimately, that was Kyle's choice. And for Kyle to be so ok, just like that--I knew there must be something magical here. Something that could outrun South Park’s awfulness, and help us heal. Something that could help us change. 

...At the time, I didn't realize that change wasn't always a good thing. That sometimes, you could outrun one awful thing and find something even worse in its place. Though we didn't yet know it, in a way, that's exactly what happened: we had traded South Park's evils for Sweet Park's.

And all too soon, we would come to realize that Sweet Park's evils were much, much worse.


	2. Kyle's POV

Here’s the thing Stan doesn’t understand about South Park: not all of us wanted to leave. Yeah, we all agreed it was unequivocally terrible, and that living there, being raised there, had probably fucked us up for life. But it was a kind of fucked up that all of us knew. It was a fucked up we could at least prepare for.

Moving to the middle of nowhere, just us, no plan? That was a kind of fucked up I couldn’t deal with.

But still, I followed along, so I guess I can’t really complain. It’s not like he forced me to come here. He just texted me a picture of the listing, followed by the question, "You in?" That would have been a good time to say, "Holy shit, Stan, you're still a teenager. Maybe just wait on this, ok?" But instead, I'd said, "I don't know dude..." and he'd replied with 30+ texts saying why we should go. They all basically boiled down to, "Do you really want to live the rest of your life in South Park?" and I wanted to tell him, "Maybe?" Because I'd lived in other places, too. And the South Parkness always seemed to follow me there.

So, why try to escape it? Why pretend we had a choice?

In the end, I sent a thumbs up--and like, what the fuck? That's not something that ever comes up in my emojianalyses--because I could tell that this meant something to him. I wanted to support his decision, even if it sucked. Does that make me a good friend or a bad one?

...Ugh. Ok, I already know that answer. At this point, the only friend worse than me is Cartman. 

Maybe I’m not really mad at Stan. Maybe I’m mad at myself. Because now, I live right next to him, right next to _her_ , and I didn’t even have enough sense to—to just tell him, _"No,"_ to tell him—

…Fuck, never mind. Anyway.

Our first week in Sweet Park was pretty uneventful, which was a huge surprise in itself. The goth kids had a small run-in with the vampire kids, Clyde had an…interesting run-in with the Raisins girls, and Craig had an awkward run-in with Thomas. Plus, Nichole seemed actively trying _not_ to run into her sulking boyfriend. But other than that, things were ok, and I managed to avoid Wendy and Cartman pretty easily. Based on the fact that we were literally next door neighbors, this made me think they were avoiding me, too.

I mostly hung out with Butters and Stan, though I did visit Kenny a couple of times. The day he moved in, I brought some stuff over to his room, since I knew he hadn't brought much with him. That's the way he phrased it, anyway--truth was, he hadn't had much to bring. I had some folding chairs I didn't need and a table to go with them, so I walked on over, knocked on his door, and was immediately engulfed in a hug.

“Dude, check it,” he said, as he invited me in, then stood over the AC unit.

I stared for a moment, but nothing seemed weird about it. “…What am I looking at?” I finally asked.

He smiled so wide, I thought his lips would split. “It’s actually _working,_ ” he said. “And--and, look at this—” He turned the dial up, then down. Up, then down. Up, then—

“Dude, quit it, you’re going to break it.”

Still smiling, Kenny set the knob back to 69, because of course he did, before saying, “The water’s hot too, and there aren’t holes in the ceiling. The windows are sealed. And--" His jaw dropped. "And the fridge, have you checked out the fridge?”

Kenny ran over to the kitchen, where he proceeded to show me a fully stocked pantry and fridge. I smiled at him, but I didn't comment. It had been Stan's idea to stock Kenny's place with food, because honestly, we weren't sure when he'd last had any. Not that I was going to tell him this, because did he really need the reminder about his shitty parents?

I guess there’d been some good reasons to leave after all.

“I just wish they were here, too,” Kenny said, causing me to look at him confusedly. For a moment, I wasn’t sure who he meant. And then, I felt like the world's shittiest older brother. Scratch that--I _was_ the world's shittiest older brother.

“Yeah, well, they can move in, too. In a couple of years.” I shrugged, not really sure what else to say. I wasn't even sure if Ike would want to come here. He knew better than most how inescapable South Park was. Just look at what had happened in Canada.

“Years…” Kenny said, as he fell back against his bed. And then, in a half-there voice, he asked, “Do you think I could adopt her?”

The question caught me off guard, but I tried to play it off. “I don’t know, man. I’ve never looked that stuff up."

He hummed to himself before nodding. “I have," he said, "but it doesn’t make any sense.” Abruptly, he sat up and turned toward me, eyes suddenly growing wide. “I seriously forgot. Your dad’s a lawyer. Do you, like, know how any of that shit works?”

I frowned. “I just told you, I haven’t—”

“I mean if I did the research and sent it to you. Would you be able to figure it out?”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure. But Kenny had seemed so hopeful, I couldn’t turn him down. Even though I thought being here was pointless, that everything we were striving for was bound to fall apart, I couldn't be the one to destroy that illusion. Not when it was going to destroy itself, soon enough.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

His smile widened. He bounced off the bed and gave me another hug. “Great!" he said, as my arms grew numb. "And hey, maybe you can do the same for Ike.”

I frowned. As shitty as my parents were, Ike wasn’t in any immediate danger. Not in the way Kenny had been his whole life, not in the way Karen might be now. “Yeah, maybe,” is all that I said, and he seemed to take that as sincere.

“We’re really all gonna get out of there,” he said. “And if we're not there, then maybe I won't--” Whatever else he was going to say, he stopped. “Nah, never mind. Anyhow, we should probably get to our shifts.”

Raising a brow, I started to ask him what he was going to say. But before I could, a loud, feminine shriek came from the hallway. After a quick glance toward each other, Kenny ran for the door. He grabbed the knob and swung it open.. 

Heidi was shaking in the middle of the hallway. Her eyes were glued to the spot a few feet in front of her where Cartman stood, scowling. The second we approached them, Cartman looked toward me. Instead of the guilt I’d gotten used to seeing, or even the hesitation, his face was entirely red and angry.

“Jesus _fuck_ , I didn’t even do anything,” he said. “I literally was just standing here, about to—”

“Just get out of here, Cartman," I said. His eyes widened, and his scowl grew deeper.

“What the hell? It’s my hallway. Make her leave.”

“It’s _my_ hallway,” I corrected. “Mine, and Stan’s, and Wendy’s. You just live here, and that’s because I said you could." I crossed my arms, not enjoying this, but not not-enjoying it. "Want me to change my mind?”

“Listen, Jew,” Cartman said, and the second it came out of his mouth, all color left his face. To be honest, some of it left mine, too. He... he wasn't supposed to say that anymore. He looked between me and Heidi, then to Kenny, then back to Heidi, then me, before looking down. “…Screw you guys,” he finally said. “I’m going… I’m going downstairs.”

With that, he walked to the elevator, pointedly not looking at us. We awkwardly waited for the elevator to open, at which point he stepped in, said nothing, and disappeared.

The moment he was out of sight, Heidi finally began to relax. She was still shaking, but it wasn’t as bad as before. “Why—why is he here?” she asked.

I smiled at her, or at least, I tried to. “He needed a place, and we had one,” I said simply. “And I figured, if _I_ was ok with him here, then—”

“Then what?” The snap in her tone caught me off guard. My smile slipped as she continued, “You’re not the only one he’s hurt, Kyle. What’s David going to say? Or Token? Or any of the other girls?”

“Wendy seemed ok with it,” Kenny responded, which... wasn't really true. Sure, she was acting like she was, but only because Stan had talked her into it--and that had only happened after I'd talked Stan into it myself. Because after the shit Cartman had pulled, Stan didn't get why I'd want him anywhere near me. And honestly, I wasn't totally sure either. But it had felt wrong, just abandoning him there. Even though I knew he'd do the same thing to me in a heartbeat. Even though he'd done way worse before. Way, way worse, recently. 

“What did you come down here for anyway?” I asked, surprised at how annoyed I sounded. Heidi didn't know about the latest Cartman-shit, so I guess it was only fair of her to be reacting this way. Jesus Christ, she'd dated the guy, so if anyone knew how awful her was, it was her. But I'd still seen a worse side, and I was getting past it, so what right did she have to act like I'd done something wrong? 

“I actually came to see you,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re doing virtual school, right?”

I blinked. "Yeah..." I said, confused about how she knew that--I hadn’t applied to too many schools, but I had gotten into an upper-tier university up north, which was allowing me to take next semester online.

“Me and a few others were thinking of starting a study group,” she said.

“...Even though we’re all in different programs and school hasn't started yet?”

She scowled. “Look, if you don’t want to join, no one’s making you.”

I winced. What was with her and yelling at me today? "Hey, I didn't say--"

“Why didn’t I get an invite?”

Heidi and I turned toward Kenny. Her eyebrows rose like she'd heard a dead baby joke. “ _You’re_ doing virtual school?”

There was something insulting about how she emphasized "you're." If it bothered Kenny, he didn't show it.

“No,” he said, “but if you’re gonna recreate the college experience..." He wriggled his eyebrows. "I’m a solid yes for joining in.”

Heidi frowned. And then, she sighed. "This is why you weren't invited." Turning back to me, she added, “First study session is tonight. We're using Dogpoo's room. Show up, or don’t. Your choice.”

"Wait, Dogpoo's room?" I responded, even more confused. Not that I had anything against the guy, but he wasn't exactly our greatest friend. Plus, he was a terrible slob.

“We can't use Token's room, not with Clyde there. And Nichole won't join since he's part of it--I think they're fighting? Wendy can't make it tonight, and we'd do it in my room, but..." Her voice trailed off, before adding, “I don’t know what Craig and Tweek are up to, but it's super loud. I can hear them through the walls.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas what they’re doing,” Kenny said with a laugh.

Heidi's frown turned into a grimace. “…I repeat: this is why you weren’t invited to study session." And then, without another word, she turned around, walked down the hallway, got to the elevator, and left. No wave, no goodbye, nothing.

It honestly hurt a little.

Back when her and Cartman had dated the first time, I’d sorta liked her. A lot, actually. But whatever chance we could have had together, he’d destroyed it. Like he destroyed everything else. Yeah, she had said it was her fault, how she started acting, what she became, and maybe some of it was. But he’s the one who brought the worst out of her.

And we were the ones who sat by and let him.

“Earth to Kyle,” Kenny said, waving his hand in my face.

“Hmm, what?” I said, as my thoughts returned to the hallway.

“You were daydreaming. About your private study session with Heidi, I'm guessing." He grinned. "So, are you a teacher's pet, or do you misbehave in class?"

I rolled my eyes. “Sick dude, cut it out.”

“I mean, am I _wrong?_ ”

“Yeah actually. Some of us don’t think about sex 24/7.”

“I don’t think about sex 24/7," Kenny said. "I have to sleep, you know.”

With that, we headed down the hallway—Kenny to the back office where he'd spend the next few hours doing... who knows what, and me to the front desk, where Butters was already set up.

“Hey Kyle!” Butters greeted. He was smiling, which he'd started doing a lot more now. He was still pretty fidgety, and I'd noticed a bald spot behind his ear that I assumed--hoped--was from stress. But whatever had caused that stress didn't seem to be around anymore. Or, it was around, but it wasn't here.

“Hey Butters," I said with a wave. 

“Did you hear the news?” His voice piped up, and I could already tell that whatever had happened would be far less interesting to me than it was to him. But before I could respond, he continued, "Something’s happening over in Canada. Terrance and Phillip were supposed to have a reunion special today, but they never showed up!”

I walked over to the front desk computer and pulled up the boarding logs. “They’ve missed some of their specials before,” I said, with a shrug.

“Yeah, but this-this was a big one! They even got Scott the dick to come, and they never don’t show when Scott’s there.”

I paused. That... was true. But Terrance and Phillip weren't exactly known for being reliable. They probably passed out farting somewhere or just felt like not coming. It really didn't seem like a big deal.

Butters started sharing his ideas about what had happened, but he was mostly talking to himself. It was easy enough to tune him out as I read through the latest reports--no new tenants were showing up, but there was already a long list of complaints and requests. And some of them were weird: Tweek had submitted a barely coherent paragraph about their heat not working, only for Craig to send a follow-up message, saying it was fine now. Nichole had sent in a request for a second room key only to follow up with the brief update, "You know what? Forget it." 

Kenny had also sent a message, which simply said, “Hey Kyle, sup?” I marked that request as completed. There, at least I'd gotten something done.

The last message came from Gregory, and my stomach immediately tightened. Because Gregory was Christophe's roommate, and I really didn't want to see him. Stan had mentioned that the Mole was here when he’d gone on his rant about Gregory—but my brain was still processing the news. I’d… had a really weird dream a few years ago in which I’d watched him die. It was so real, it was hard for me to accept it hadn’t actually happened. But he was here now, so--it obviously hadn't. Just like that war I sometimes thought we'd had.

The message was simple enough: Christophe wanted to know if I could explain our pet policy. He specifically wanted to know about dogs. For some reason, that struck me as an odd request, and somewhere in the back of my mind, that blurry, yet powerful memory of the Mole's dead body began to resurface. But it was an easy enough ask, so I figured, ok. I then noticed he’d actually, explicitly asked that I come upstairs and explain it to him myself… which was also weird, but not a huge deal. Not like I had anything else I needed to do.

After procrastinating for several minutes, I told Butters I was going upstairs and to come get me if he needed anything. I then took the elevator to the sixth floor, heartbeat quickening with every level. All too soon, I was standing in front of Gregory--Christophe's--door. I knocked, and it was quickly answered. Fortunately, not by the Mole, but by Gregory. He looked paler than I remembered.

The room stank of cigarettes, and I wrinkled my nose. I'd have to ask Stan and Wendy what our official smoking policy was. Shit, would that mean asking Token, too? Who really had the ultimate say here?

As I thought through our poorly established hierarchy, Gregory nodded at me. "Good to see you, Kyle," he greeted, as he stood aside to let me in. I entered the room, and then, I saw him--lounging on the couch, like he couldn't care less that I was there. He inhaled his cigarette, then gazed toward me. I immediately turned back toward Gregory. 

"So, you guys are thinking of getting a dog?"

"What!"

The Mole's panicked cry startled me, and I looked back toward him, just in time to see him fall off the couch. "Where is the dog? Where are the bitches?" he cried, as he looked around the room.

"...We are not," Gregory said, as the Mole continued to sputter. "My apologies Kyle, it was merely code. I thought it might--I thought you might remember."

"...Stupid American bitches," the Mole said. He continued to look wildly around the room as he reached into his pocket for another cigarette. And then, to Gregory, he said, "I told you he would not remember. You barely remembered, either." 

“Calm down, Christophe,” Gregory said. "If we only give him time--" 

"Time!" the Mole responded. "We have no time. We are far past time. Time is--" He threw up his hands and walked back toward the couch, then started pacing, inhaling smoke. 

I had no idea what to think of any of this. A stupid part of me still wanted to explain our pet policy, as if that might add some normalcy to whatever was happening. But the Mole was suddenly looking at me with a ferocity I'd only seen once before--except, I'd never seen it before. I'd dreamed it. It hadn't happened, couldn't have--" 

"Kyle," the Mole said, voice dark. And then, all at once, it came out: "I was killed. I died in your arms." 

I blinked. I blinked again. "You... what?" 

"I died," the Mole repeated. "I wanted to spit in God's face, but the bitches sent me to hell. And that's where I've been, all these years. But now?"

He walked past Gregory. He grabbed my arms. He shook me, like he was trying to shake the memory back into my head. 

"I am alive again," he said, and at first, I thought there was joy there. A happiness to be alive. But then, he repeated his words, adding something hollow: 

"I am alive again. And I shouldn't be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is the fastest I've updated anything in a while. What a rush lol. Here's hoping I don't have any typos or like, full missing sentences.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and comments are appreciated! And don't worry, we're gonna start having multi-POV chapters soon and getting answers to some of the mysteries~

**Author's Note:**

> The new South Park special gutted me. And I've recently gotten really into Sweet Home, sooooo, seemed like a good time to write this lol.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated! Fair warning that, like with my other stories, an update schedule is not a thing here. But new chapters are coming, promise : )
> 
> Also, here's the layout (partially to help me keep track). If you see something off, let me know cause it probably means I have a typo somewhere...:  
> Floor 1 - Front desk and waiting area  
> Floor 2 - Stan&Wendy, Kyle, Bebe, Kenny, Butters, Cartman  
> Floor 3 - Tweek&Craig, Token&Clyde, Vampire kids (2 rooms), Heidi, Gary  
> Floor 4 - Gingers (2 rooms), Raisin Girls (1 room), David, Jason, Scott  
> Floor 5 - Nichole, DogPoo, Red, Pip, Damien, Thomas  
> Floor 6 - Goths (3 rooms), Gregory&Mole, Timmy, Jimmy


End file.
